


Bitter Caramel

by soulofme



Series: Youth [7]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon, Levi & Eren Yeager Are Best Friends, Levi-centric (Shingeki no Kyojin), M/M, Military Draft, Vague relationship, and teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9329255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulofme/pseuds/soulofme
Summary: This is it, he breathes, his voice nothing more than a low grumble that somehow makes its way through the static and cotton that appear to be filling Levi’s ears. This is it.Tomorrow is draft day.





	

Their shoes crunch gravel as they amble down the street. The air is sticky with humidity. The street is illuminated by nothing other than the moon’s shining light. The dark clouds that shroud it look thick and full, ready to release precipitation at any moment.

They continue down the road, ignoring the excited yapping of the skinny dogs that have been left out for the night. A woman rolls her cart of oranges down the street, her face lined with intricate creases that appear to tell her story of hardship and immense struggle.

Eren jerks to a stop only once they’re at the edge of the road, the area where the dirt gives way to pebbles that eventually get lost in the tiny lake before them. He kicks his shoes off and reaches into his pocket for the small little envelope.

Levi follows his lead slowly. His fingers are torn and bloody, nails chewed to ragged edges that bite into his palm with every clench of his fist, but despite it all he reaches down and rolls his pants up to his knees. The pebbles dig uncomfortably into the soles of his feet as he walks across them.

Eren crouches down, cool water lapping over his toes, and begins to unwrap the packet. The golden key slides out easily into his palm. It’s not much larger than any of the pebbles beneath their feet. He presses the metal to his lips and closes his eyes.

Levi takes up the space beside him, arms hooked over his knees as he sits down on the ground, and when Eren opens his eyes he looks at Levi’s empty hands. He doesn’t say a word before he grabs a pebble and presses it into his palms, an earnest look in his eyes, and unspoken plea on the tip of his tongue.

Levi grips the pebble hard. He thinks of his mother, of her lustrous hair and brilliantly shining eyes. He thinks of the warm heat of her palm, of the soft assurances uttered from her lips, of the way she had prayed so intensely that he wondered if their neighbors knew what tomorrow would bring. 

He doesn’t add his own prayer before he brings his arm back and flings the pebble forward. The sound it makes when hits the water makes Eren releases a soft, gentle sigh, and before he knows it he's watching as the golden key flies over the surface of the water before getting absorbed deep into its murky depths.

The next sigh Eren releases is harsh, rough, and instantly exposes the chaotic thoughts tumbling around in his mind. This is it, he breathes, his voice nothing more than a low grumble that somehow makes its way through the static and cotton that appear to be filling Levi’s ears. _This is it_.

Tomorrow is draft day.

Levi murmurs the words to himself, lets them roll off his tongue like the bitter caramel they had consumed eagerly at the beginning of the summer. He thinks of Carla Jaeger, of her honey eyes and flawless skin, of the gentle warmth she carried that was no different than the air his own mother had. She had ordered them out of the kitchen as she slaved over the stove, butter and sugar melding together with each careful stir of her wooden spoon, and when she let them have their first taste, he remembers how he and Eren had exchanged secret glances behind her back.

It had not tasted good, not by a long shot, but butter and sugar were becoming scarce. As Levi bustled around the bar, hands wrapped tight around the black serving tray, he would listen as men complained about how the taxes went to fattening up the soldiers.

Those fuckers, they would moan, mugs of beer cradled in their beefy hands, backs pressed solidly up against their chairs, _those greedy fuckers_.

He never stopped to engage in the conversation, never one for idle chit-chat, but he would think about it when Eren would drag him to watch the soldiers return from outside the walls. He would watch their emerald capes flap behind them, ripped, torn, stained with the blood of their brothers, and he would wonder if this is what those men meant. Greedy fuckers, he supposed, always want more than they deserve to get. Humanity was not meant to be free. That was why they had the walls.

He would never voice that aloud, though, at least not while in the company of Eren. He had spent countless days just like this, pressed among the parents and siblings and spouses waiting to see a glimpse of their beloved relatives, and each and every time he would wonder why they were here.

Look at them, Eren would whisper, hand squeezing Levi’s hard enough to hurt, look at them. They’re fighting for us. That’s all they’ve ever done. Fight for us.

And at that, Levi would allow himself another glance at the soldiers. The clop of the horses’ hooves would vanish into the air, drowned out by the despairing wails of those who’ve realized their loved ones would never return. He would stare at the dirt road before them, watch as disgruntled tax payers would spit at the ground and whine out their grievances, as children far younger than Eren and him would race out into the street and proclaim that _they_ would perform that very walk, that _they_ would give their lives for humanity, and he would ask himself _why_. Why, why, why?

And now, in the present, he finds himself asking the same question. The ranks were incredibly low. Losses had exceeded the projected amount. They needed soldiers, strong young men and women who were willing to put their lives on the line. But they knew what their reputation was. They knew what people would say when someone would whisper _look, the Survey Corps is back_.

But they continued to try.

Their rousing speeches did not end. When the trainees would graduate, their commander would still stand on that stage and urge them to fight for humanity. He called it a counterattack, an attempt to reclaim what was cruelly stolen by the Titans, but it all sounded like empty words to Levi. He would hear about it at school, as he and Eren walked the streets with sweat staining the backs of their shirts from the intense summer heat, would listen as kids their age laughed it off. Garrison and Military Police. Garrison and Military Police. That was all anyone wanted to join.

And yet, they would be graduating from the academy in just mere hours. They would stand in neat columns and listen as their names were read off a piece of parchment, emotionless and cold, and their eyes would dart to the sidelines where their families and friends waited with baited breaths. A loud cry of intense joy for the Military Police. A round of a polite applause for the Garrison. Deafening silence for the Survey Corps.

He’d seen it before, when his friend Farlan had been drafted. He watched as Farlan’s mother held onto her husband’s hand with all her might. They had given a large sum of money to the Military Police, almost everything they had, in hopes they would take their son. Please, they had begged, and the rest of the town would seethe _corruption_ whenever they passed Farlan’s parents on the street. Please take our son.

But the money had not been enough, and the soldier at the podium said the words that sent Farlan’s mother into instant tears.

Farlan Church. Survey Corps.

The soldier moved onto the next name without so much as a blink while Mrs. Church grasped desperately onto her husband’s shoulders. Levi swallowed hard and watched Farlan walk across the stage, the iconic green cape clutched tight in his hands.

He returned to the sidelines and brandished it like it was some sort of achievement, pretending not to notice how the families clustered around them gazed upon him with varying looks of pity and joy. At least it wasn’t our boy, Levi remembers hearing someone behind them murmur. _At least it wasn’t our boy_.

His blood had raced wildly in his ears, but Farlan had smiled disarmingly at him.

I’m happy, he says, and Levi wonders how much of that held true before he met his untimely end. How happy had he been between the jaws of the hulking beasts that were a symbol of nothing but ruin?

Eren stands up slowly, and the movement catches Levi’s eye as he finally looks up at him. His fingers ache dully, raw from the fight he had broken up at the bar last night, and when he stands up as well he swears he hears his joints pop and creak in protest.

He doesn’t bother to ask Eren what he prayed for, and neither does Eren. They walk back home in silence, the warm summer air ruffling their hair gently, and Levi wonders if they will be the last time they do this.

The next morning, his mother wakes him up early. She pushes him into a crisp white shirt and black slacks, brings him the newly-polished shoes she had spent the last of her paycheck on. She presses her soft palms to his cheeks, runs her fingers through the strands of hair that cover his forehead.

I’ll try to leave work early, she whispers, her voice soft and desperate, and he feels entirely too clammy all of a sudden. Wait for me.

He mutters an agreement before there’s a knock on the door that signals Eren’s arrival. He’s dressed similarly to him, but there’s a wary look on his face. Later, much later, Levi realizes why it’s there.

For now, though, he says nothing. They walk close by each other, their feet shuffling dirt as they walk to the academy. They spot a few of their classmates, but everyone is too nervous to stop and chat. When they finally arrive in front of the stage, Levi feels the first stirrings of dread flare in his gut. They are separated by alphabetical order, so he has to crane his neck back to catch a sight of Eren. Eren gives him a tiny nod that he returns before he faces front again.

A soldier takes the stage. The badge clipped to his uniform informs the entire crowd that he’s a member of the Military Police. He crosses his arms behind his back and begins a long speech about how every position in the military is equally important. It’s more than obvious than he holds nothing over the Military Police, and by the soft murmurs of the families waiting beside them, it’s clear the public doesn’t either.

He reads the names slowly. Levi doesn’t pay much attention to them other than where his fellow cadets are heading. Garrison. Garrison. Garrison. Survey Corps. Survey Corps. Survey Corps.

The pattern continues for a while. When five trainees in a row are sent to the Military Police, he hears the agitated muttering from beside him. Corruption, he hears. Corruption, corruption. Another rich daddy paying to keep his kid off the front lines. What ever happened to hard work and talent?

It’s almost his turn, now, and he spots his mother just as she manages to push her way to the front. She offers him a wide smile, but he can’t find it in himself to return the gesture.

Levi Ackerman, he hears, and he stiffens up as he approaches the stage. The soldier barely gives him a glance before he reaches for something off of the table behind him. _Survey Corps_.

His heartbeat roars in his ears. He grabs the dark green cloak and sinks his fingers into the coarse material. He walks off the stage and lets a woman hand him his uniform. There’s a badge sewed onto the breast pocket of his jacket. Two wings, one white, one blue, symbolizing freedom.

He wonders why he feels nothing but anger as he looks at them.

He makes his way over to his mother, carefully searching her face. She gives him no reaction other than a soft brush of her fingers against his cheekbones. When she asks him if he wants to go home, he says nothing. And so they stand there until the soldier on stage is switched out for another, until the crowd has diminished, until the trainees awaiting their fate have dwindled down. He listens attentively until he hears the one name that has him instantly looking right at the stage.

Eren Jaeger, the soldier says, and she pauses for a slight second. It’s enough to have Levi furrowing his eyebrows.

 _Military Police_.

Eren seems shocked by this, if the sudden stiffness in his shoulders and the panicked look he sends towards Levi is any indication. He had not prayed for this, it seems, but someone surely had.

Eren accepts his uniform shakily. When he comes down the stage, some of the other cadets congratulate him and pat him on his back. Levi only understands it when their names are called in quick succession, all followed by what seem to be an endless stream of _Military Police_.

Kuchel congratulates Eren when he nears them. It’s then that Levi realizes Eren's parents had not bothered to attend the ceremony at all. He supposes there is no reason for them to come.

Kuchel leaves them with a gentle squeeze to Eren’s shoulder. Levi lets his eyes trail over Eren’s form, lets Eren jerk forward and grab onto him and kiss him like he knows he’s holding a dying man. Levi supposes it wouldn’t be far from the truth. Is that not what being sent to the Survey Corps means?

I didn’t know, Eren mumbles desperately into the crook of his neck, shaking hands fisting the fabric of his shirt. I didn’t know my parents would do that.

I know, Levi says back. And honestly, he hadn’t. The Jaeger’s had seemed so content with the unpredictability of the ceremony. What will be will be, he remembers Grisha saying, and the words that had once been a comfort now only serve to leave a bitter taste in the back of Levi’s throat. It brings forth the memory of Carla's failed caramel, and he sucks in a sharp breath at the thought. Would he live to taste it ever again?

Levi, Eren continues, voice shaky and small, and suddenly he wants to ask what Eren had prayed for the previous night. He doesn’t, though, because maybe it’s best if he doesn’t know. Levi, I’m sorry.

I know, Levi says again, and he closes his eyes and loses himself in the soldier’s strong voice.

Garrison. Garrison. Garrison. Survey Corps. Survey Corps. Survey Corps.

Military Police.

Military Police.

 **Military Police**.


End file.
